


Winter Roses

by Val_Creative



Series: Kinktober/Whumptober/Goretober 2020 [17]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adults, BAMF Lyanna Stark, Benjen Stark POV, Blood, Drama & Romance, F/M, Goretober, House Stark, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Introspection, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Nosebleed, Pining, Polyamory, Pre-Canon, Protective Ned Stark, Sexual Content, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27070651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: During the hour of ghosts, they shut themselves away in Brandon's chambers. No-one may be privy to their dalliances.
Relationships: Benjen Stark/Brandon Stark/Lyanna Stark/Ned Stark
Series: Kinktober/Whumptober/Goretober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949473
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14
Collections: Kinktober 2020, Octobercest 2020!, Whumptober 2020





	Winter Roses

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS ONE I DID NOT PLAN FOR BUT I DID IT ANYWAY. 😎 AYEEE. THANKS FOR CLICKING. HOPE YOU ENJOY IT.

*

Benjen has heard the tale before—long ago, a woods witch from Breakstone Hill, wandering in from the northernmost point of the mountains, made a prediction to his lord father. _Lyarra Stark's children would die in the order they were born._

Lyanna yawns, hoisting herself onto a stone-ledge in the courtyard and overhearing Maester Wullis and Ramsay Cassel bleating on.

She pats her mouth delicately. Benjen swallows down a laugh, glancing up to her as he ties his boot-laces. Of all things, Lyanna is far from being considered a _proper_ lady. Not with her sheepskin trousers, or the mud under Lyanna's nails.

"Perhaps it's true," Lyanna grumbles, frowning and staring at Brandon in the distance.

Their eldest brother wields his training sword like a battle-axe.

He grins cockily, hitting the side of an abandoned wayn and pretending to duck his invisible enemies.

Brandon only concerns himself with his physical prowess. Overpowering his foes. Neglecting studies and strategies.

He finally takes notice of them, as well as Ned approaching Lyanna and Benjen to ask where Hodor had gone, combing away his dark, sweat-soaked fringe. Brandon winks. Lyra rolls her eyes, folding her arms stiffly and jumping down as Brandon's empty hand gropes momentarily over his prick. He vulgarly thrusts his hips. Benjen's cheeks flush hotly and Ned's lips scowl.

"Enough of this," Ned says, muttering and grabbing Lyanna's wrist when she rudely gestures with her hip-dagger.

The winds carry Brandon's laughter into their ears.

*

He practises with a metal censer, lighting it aflame and whipping the chain about him. Benjen hasn't the mastery of steel as his brothers or longbow as Lyanna. He can survive a fight if need be, but Arnolf Karstark proclaims him to be _harebrained_.

"Mind yourself," Ned warns him, but with gentle eyes and gentle hands pressing to Benjen's lower back. Straightening him.

Lyanna peers out from the stables, watching them and leaning a little into Brandon's red-raw mouth holding to her neck. She pushes his arms lightly from her middle. Benjen desires to taste the honeyed red wine on her lips again, surrendering to her.

He remembers the glimpse of Lyanna's naked skin. Pale as alabaster stone. Her teats, firm and warm, cupped in his hands. Benjen flatten them together, listening to her murmurous whimper and shivering with Brandon's oiled fingers rubbing his hole. Ned's cock slipped in-between Lyanna's teats, fucking her roughly, losing himself to the peak. Dignified, cold and righteous _Ned_.

During the hour of ghosts, they shut themselves away in Brandon's chambers. No-one may be privy to their dalliances. It must not be spoken. Benjen imagines Lord Rickard Stark's fury and loathing, and the sensation of Ice cutting his throat.

_"—oathbreaker—"_

Lyanna's high, womanly voice rises, fading apart Benjen's imaginings of the previous eve-fall.

She stares fearlessly as Brandon's grin widens until he exposes all of his teeth.

"Impugn my honour again and you shall be sorry, my dear sister."

"Ser," Lyanna addresses him without a trace of sweetness or grace, "I know not of a finer craven lurking under a wolf's pelt."

Benjen grimaces. Ned shakes his head.

Dark crimson blood flows heavily out of Lyanna's nostrils. She seems stricken so suddenly. Light-headed. "What have you done?" Benjen demands in a low growl, dropping his censer into the snow and reaching for her trembling fingers.

"I haven't," Brandon insists, his expression hardening in concern. "Gods be good, I haven't _touched_ her—Lyanna—"

Her eyelids flutter. Lyanna's lips and her chin shine in red.

"Lya, wake yourself—" Ned whispers, holding her face and keeping her upright.

Benjen wipes his ash-dirtied forehead, panicked. "Seven hells—"

_"Eddard—"_

"Be steady," Ned says fiercely, and Benjen isn't sure if he means this towards Brandon calling his name or a woozy Lyanna. She dislikes being fussed over. Regaining herself, Lyanna would scowl and threaten to wallop her brothers—or so Benjen thinks.

"Get one of the maesters—"

 _"No,"_ Lyanna breathes. She groans, tilting her head away when Brandon grips her chin, frowning severely and silently, using his sleeve to dab off her face. He nudges aside a complaining Ned. Lyanna's dark braid smells of the frosty winter roses.

Brandon's fingertips smear crimson.

That's all.

That's what Benjen first retrieves from his memories as he wakes from death Beyond-The-Wall.

His cold, greyed hands long for a blood's heat.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2020 prompt(s): **Three (or more) some, Titfucking**  
>  Whumptober 2020 prompt(s): **Dirty Secret**  
>  Goretober 2020 prompt(s): **Nosebleed**


End file.
